Falchion
by Kjelle Sparks101 IV
Summary: She was putting all her hopes on the holy sword to fix her mistake.


Don't worry I'll have the next chapter of "Who's the Father" up soon, this idea just wouldn't leave me alone.

And of course I do not own Fire Emblem and you all should be grateful for that.

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Falchion

She was dead or she might as well have been. She was a lifeless corpse wondering the land of Ylisse; just waiting to rot but she never would because despite how she felt and how bleak her future was she was alive. She wasn't dead not even close, unfortunately. Chrom was, killed by Grima-no by her, own, hand.

She knew she shouldn't have been there-participated in that battle. She should have been far from it and the fell dragon's influence. But she foolishly allowed herself to be talked into fighting and the price had been paid. Her lord-closest friend- was dead and she was in Grima's control. The brilliant tactician had failed and it was a mistake that couldn't be repaired.

It wasn't just them that would suffer for their horrific decision, everyone would. Sumia was now a widow. Young Lucina and Cynthia would grow up without their father. Ylisse lost its Exalt again. And soon the dead would scourer the lands eliminating all life that crossed their path. Everyone paid the price.

It was all her fault and she was helpless to do anything about it. It was only a matter of time before her soul would be devoured and her body would be a host for the dreaded dragon. Even now as she walked through the empty fields she could feel Grima clawing at her soul in an attempt to regain his control. Her freedom would only be for a short time and it only existed because of her dear friend's blade, Falchion.

It burned her hand but she didn't care; in fact, she was grateful for the pain as it was the only thing keeping Grima in check. Though just holding it was not enough. Her inner demon feed off of negative emotions and she had plenty to offer. She couldn't let herself feel anything, so she was close to a lifeless corpse.

In attempts to regain his dominance the fell dragon threaten her many times. All of them were about devouring her soul and leaving nothing left. They were empty drabble as she already knew he would do that even if she had released Falchion. The only thing he could do that might possibly have caused her to drop the divine sword was the idea of not eating her completely and having her bare witness to all the horrors he would make her do. Just thinking about it would be enough to terrorize her. She couldn't think about it because he would learn of her fear.

She didn't know how long she had been walking (she couldn't even sustain that small of a distraction) but she knew it was much longer than was humanely possibly; a painful reminder that she was no longer human. The nonstop walking paid off as she arrived at her destination quickly-Ylisstol. The once beautiful and lively capital was lost replaced with a dark, depressing city. The festive decorations that used to litter everywhere were all gone in morning for the fallen Exalt. She couldn't hold back her guilt and Grima roared to life inside her. Hastily she unsheathed Falchion and gripped the dull blade. With how hard she gripped it the pointed edges dug into her palm and broke skin. Letting out an agonizing cry the dragon fell back into submission…for now. She paid no attention to the ghostly, black blood that dripped out of her hand, she needed no more reminders. Slipping the blade back into the scabbard she hoped that her blood wouldn't stain the beautiful sword. Now with a wound the burning sensation was even more intense that she hoped that her hand would burn off, after all it was no longer hers.

Upon reaching the massive gates to the city she was stopped by just two lone guards. To her it was an appalling sight to behold as they needed more protection in those desperate times. No one said anything as the guards just stared at her in utter disbelief. She didn't know what her friends told the people about her but she hoped it was the truth so that everyone knew what a horrible thing she had done but at the same time she couldn't have that. She couldn't afford to get in a fight because she knew full well that there would be no way for her to hold Grima back. But the guards never attacked instead they shared a glanced with each and open the gate. No words were ever exchanged.

Just as she expected the streets were dead. Everyone had the windows closed tight to block out the outside world. She was grateful to be the only one out as she didn't have to deal with the awkwardness of people. But when she heard the squeaking of a door she didn't wait to be seen as she took off running at blinding speed.

In no time at all she was at the castle walls. The once calming sight now became another depressing reminder but she trudged on. Gripping Falchion she remembered that the sword was very selective of who could wield it, only those of Ylisse royal blood it found worthy. Lissa wasn't able to wield it so that just left the children: Lucina, Cynthia, and Owain. Before Chrom it had been a very long time before anyone was able to use it; skipping a generation couldn't happen or all would be lost.

Silently she warned the holy sword about what would happen if it didn't choose one of the children and as if it was agreeing the burning sensation subsided for a very brief point of time. Briefly she wondered if the sword held any ill will towards her or if the blade saw her as Robin and not Grima. She couldn't allow herself to think any more on that subject so she let the thought die.

The castle was just as empty as the city and for a second she feared that everyone had left for some other safe haven. She couldn't have that she needed to deliver Falchion while she still had control. When she heard the sound of faint voices off in the distance, relief washed over her. Hope was not lost.

Her new fell dragon senses actually came in handy as she was able to quickly find the people she was looking for. In the throne room the last of the Ylisse royal family were huddled together, crying out their sorrows. It was no surprise to Robin that they would be crying around a portrait of Chrom but she did not expect for them to also be crying around one of her as well. The feelings she had be suppressing sprang to life and she was once again forced to grip the blade and the deep gash in her hand grew.

Unable to bring herself to move she just stood there and watched. Cynthia, the youngest child, couldn't grasp the understanding that her father would never return and thus didn't know why everyone was crying. Pulling at her mother's dress she desperately tried to distract her but nothing the young girl did worked. Puffing her cheeks out in frustration she was the first one to notice the intruder. With a surprise cry she ran behind her mother for protection and it broke everyone out of their misery.

It was not long for the others to take notice of Robin. Out of joy and relief they called her name but the pleasant feelings were completely wiped out when she raised Falchion and her black blood was seen dripping down it. Lissa and Sumia went back to crying and Fredrick stood protectively in front of them, pity breaking his hard features. Continuing to hold up the sword she made her way to everyone.

As the oldest of the children and the daughter of a great man Lucina felt the need to stand before everyone and protect them just as Fredrick was doing. She understood that her father was dead and unshed tears piled up at the corner of her eyes; but she didn't know about Robin's situation, no one spoke of it, but she didn't really have any reason to distrust her tutor and family friend. After all she was very fond of Robin.

Everyone watched the fallen tactician very closely as she kneeled in front of the princess. She wanted to smile, to break some of the tension but she couldn't even muster up a fake one. Holding up the legendary blade she told the young girl that it was a blade of hope and it would light the way for a better future.

Lucina extended her arms out of the blade but the older woman was hesitant. The sword was the only thing keeping Grima at bay and once it was gone the dragon would finish devouring her soul. She knew she couldn't hold onto it forever, eventually she would get consumed regardless if she had it or not; that didn't stop her from being afraid. The sob and apologies from the adults didn't help Robin and then her body shook from her fear. Tears prickled at the corners of her eyes and then came cascading down the sides of her cheek; in alarm Lucina looked to the adults for guidance. In the deepest corners of her soul she could feel the fell dragon's maleficent laugh. She knew she had no right to feel that way but she didn't want to die.

Spying the portrait of her dead friend by his daughter she found her resolved. Falchion was a sword of hope and it would be useless in the possession of a lost cause. She was doomed and nothing would change that. With a final squeeze she gave the sword to its rightful owner.

No other words were exchanged as she was gone once the blade was out of her hands. It was the only time she was ever grateful for her inhuman strength as it allowed her to get far away from Ylisstol before she succumbed to Grima.

She was lost but at least she could give hope before her end.

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Blah! This was so much better in my head. I'm just not good at writing angst.

Even though, it was terrible would you still honor me with a review? I would be me most grateful.


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